


Cure for Boredom

by Sour_Lemon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boredom, M/M, Porn, Slight Dom/Sub, Thoughts about suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Lemon/pseuds/Sour_Lemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty was dying of boredom when he met Sherlock Holmes, but now the game is finished and it's time to die. His only regret is all the things he didn't get to do. But surely it's never too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure for Boredom

The Virgin. Jim Moriarty had always called him that. It was ironic though when he thought of all the things he would like the tall pale man do, but so far all his fantasies had stayed just that, fantasies. There was something about Sherlock that drove him mad. Something about the chase that made him want to always be one step behind, just so he could keep playing the game. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time in his life Moriarty wasn't bored. He wasn't planning his own suicide just to have something to entertain himself.

The game, he thought to himself staring at the all too familiar sneer in the mirror, it would end today for better or for worse. Honestly he was a little sad to have to cut then fun so short but the consulting detective was getting just a little too close for comfort. Or was it not close enough...

With a deep sigh he straightened his tie and smiled one last time at the mirror. Time to end the game, time to make the final choice. The gun in his pocket felt cold through the thin fabric separating it from his thigh, the alien weight reminding him of the task he would in 13 out of the 15 possible situations have to prepare himself for.

The cab ride through the town went quickly the familiar streets of London flashing past him in an uncharacteristically blurred way. For once he wasn't making elaborate plans; for once he wasn't trying to map out the city he already knew every turn in. It was so easy being normal. Forgetting for just a second that behind all that plain dreary exterior there was a mystery to be created, a murder to plan.

The roof of the hospital was boring. Moriarty sat on the ledge watching the pavement below him. It would be easy, falling off, he could die as Richard Brooke, nobody would know. No more boredom, no more torture of seeing the one that could save him from the boredom. He could be free.

"Moriarty." Sherlock's voice felt like rain in his desert of boredom. Moriarty mechanically completed the lines he had planned months before, one of the conversations that would inevitably lead to him pulling out the gun and pulling the trigger. God, when had Sherlock become so boring! So predictable.

He barely heard the words that were meant to be his queue for suicide, but as he pulled the gun out of his pocket he knew he had won. But it didn't feel right. There was something so depressing about the simplicity of Sherlock's plan, so utterly predictable, the game was over and although he had won Jim felt like the world had collapsed around him. The gun felt alien in his palm as he lifted it to his head ready to pull the trigger, to win the game and lose his life.

"No!" Sherlock's voice was panicked, but instead of pulling away he propelled himself towards Moriarty, knocking the gun out of his hand with uncharacteristic violence. Before he had time to even contemplate what was going on in the detective's mind, the man had his lips captured in an aggressively passionate kiss.

Finally breaking the lip lock, Sherlock muttered; "Don't you dare." His beautiful pale face was only inches from Moriarty's as he breathed the words the shorter man had always wanted to hear: "For once I'm not bored, and you think you can just leave me!"

Jim shivered under the steel gaze of his nemesis wanting to feel those perfectly sculptured lips against his once more. "My place or yours?" He asked counting all the possible scenarios in his mind.

The detective refrained from answering simply stalking downstairs not waiting to see if he was following.

Moriarty tried desperately to count to ten before rushing after the tall man so not to look desperate. It didn't work. When he only minutes later burst into the laboratory downstairs he was met with the all too familiar grin from the consulting detective. Jim stood fixed at the door, his heart speeding up at the sight of Sherlock's semi-casual attire brought out even more by his relaxed pose.

"Come here." Sherlock said his voice a low rumble. Moriarty not knowing what else to do slipped through the door heat coursing in his veins. Compliant he walked towards the bigger man frightened at the prosperity of just what might or could happen. Licking his lips to try and rehydrate them he stood before the beautiful man.

Sherlock regarded the smaller man before him with vague curiosity; Moriarty seemed almost paralysed in his presence his breathing shallow and pupils dilated. The man needed this. Wanted this. Sherlock noted before gesturing him even closer.

"Take it off." The tall detective said his voice cool and commanding. Jim glanced down at his attire uncertainly. Surely he couldn't have meant what he had said, he thought to himself nervously tugging at the hem of his suit jacket.

“Off. Now!” Sherlock commanded his voice angry.

Moriarty struggled out of his clothes faster than he had thought possible hesitating before pulling down his boxer briefs, once again frightened the detective would turn around and laugh at him.

The intense look was something he was not prepared for. The steel grey, calculative eyes seemed to skim over him measuring every inch of his bare body.

“Shut the door.” He growled at the naked man who scrambled to fill his every order, so afraid he would lose the only one capable of chasing away the frightening boredom. 

“Come here.” Sherlock said appreciating the pale curves of the smaller man, noting with satisfaction the erection jutting from between his legs. Moriarty complied quickly pressing close to the tall detective. His eyes widened beautifully at the sight of the bulge very clear through the black material still restraining the undoubtedly gorgeous manhood. 

He felt his heart stutter, wanting more than anything to feel Sherlock take him. Fill him. Use him. Anything.

“Take it off.” Sherlock said indicating his own coat, the coat Moriarty had always wanted to remove. With hesitant hands he undid the delicate scarf setting it on the table beside the pale hand of the detective.

Next he slipped the coat off the pale shoulders allowing his fingers to brush against the exposed collarbone for the briefest second. The touch was all it took to bring the two of them crashing into a passionate kiss. Suddenly the pale fingers were all over his body, exploring sensitive areas undoubtedly mapping each response.

Sherlock growled low and carnal his breathing heavy. Somehow during the swirl of tongues and clash of teeth he had managed to discard his shirt allowing him to feel the warmth of Moriarty’s skin on his. He had planned on taking this slow. On being cruel to punish the gorgeous criminal for the deaths, but he had lost control. There was just nothing left, no reserve, nothing. 

Jim rubbed his erection against the bulging trousers of the detective, the friction on the border line of pain and pleasure. The need erupted through him, forcing him to, for the first time in his life, beg; “Sherlock, please. I want you.”

Sherlock laughed low the sound coming out wild and frighteningly insane, yet the shocks of pleasure it sent through Moriarty had him on the verge of losing his own sanity.

Without a word the larger man flipped him onto his front, face pressed against the hard steel of the lab table. Somehow, Moriarty knew what would come next before he heard the sound of a zipper from somewhere behind him. It was followed by the sound of the foil of a condom wrapper being torn.

So this was it, he was just going to stick his probably massive dick into my ass, Moriarty thought a shiver of anxious pleasure going through him.

Sherlock aligned himself with the beautiful ass before him. He was pretty sure Moriarty was a virgin in the sense of what they were about to do, which probably made him heartless to want to slide in without thorough preparation. Stepping back, Sherlock let the man off the table.

Whimpering at the loss of the closeness, Jim slid off turning to Sherlock to see what he was doing, sure that this was it; he wouldn’t go any further. He would just call the police who would catch Moriarty with his clothes off, his erection a blatant proof of his queer love towards his nemesis. But the sight of the long thick manhood before him immediately told him the man before him wanted him as much if not more than Jim wanted Sherlock. 

“Prepare yourself.” Sherlock said licking his lips his eyes darkened into two pools of black ink. Blushing Moriarty pressed a hand to his ass hole. The same place he had so often caressed wondering what it would feel like to have Sherlock within himself.

He slipped one finger in roughly preparing himself as rapidly as he could. It was uncomfortable for more reasons than one; there was the alien pressure of having something in his ass, there was the speed of it, no careful preparation, and then there was the drilling eyes watching every move. 

Eventually Moriarty turned to lean against the table again his ass high, tempting the detective to finally indulge himself.

Sherlock realigned himself lubing his long manhood carefully suddenly not wishing to hurt the criminal any more than necessary and finally slid into the still tightnessof Jim’s ass. There was no rest, no allowing the man beneath him to adjust to his proud length. The criminal whimpered from the mixture of pain and pleasure as the detective slammed mercilessly into his body. 

Sherlock took up a harsh rhythm allowing his frustration and anger pound into the ass of the man before him. It wouldn’t take long he realized, he had been so sex deprived before Moriarty had come into his life, so bored. 

Adjusting his position ever so slightly for better reach, Sherlock slammed forward with all his power finding Moriarty’s pleasure spot. The man beneath him jolted with pleasure falling head first into his orgasm, shooting his load onto the table he lent against.

The sight of his nemesis losing control due to him pushed Sherlock over the edge as came hard feeling the walls of Moriarty’s ass tightening around him.

Pulling out of the used man, Sherlock walked away to discard the condom. Slowly he dressed relishing in the feeling of serenity coursing through his veins. As he turned he saw Moriarty crumbled beside the table holding onto his crumbled jacket like a drowning man grasps at a straw. 

“I need my coat.” Sherlock said extending a pale hand towards the shivering man. Hesitantly Moriarty handed the coat over watching as the detective shrugged it on with one practiced movement. As he raised the collar to frame his beautiful jaw line Sherlock turned to the criminal he had finally defeated; “You know where I live. When you’re ready.”

Moriarty looked up from his embarrassment a smile stretching onto his face as the detective walked out leaving him alone, naked, thoroughly used, yet absolutely, brilliantly, not bored.

 _221 B Baker Street._ “I’ll meet you there.” He whispered softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Just something short I decided to write because of how much I love Sherlock with Moriarty. Hope you like it =)


End file.
